


Source Decay

by guineaDogs



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - 1990s, Alternate Universe - Earth, Angst with a Happy Ending, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Internalized Homophobia, Introspection, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Non-Linear Narrative, Park Rangers, keith pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:54:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24581143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guineaDogs/pseuds/guineaDogs
Summary: Ever since Shiro got reassigned to a post on the other side of the country five years ago, he wrote Keith letters. For five years, Keith found himself caught in a cycle of knowing he loved Shiro, and wanting the letters to stop, all while wanting nothing more than to be with him. He also knew, sooner or later, something had to give.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron), mentions of past Shiro/Curtis
Comments: 35
Kudos: 99





	Source Decay

**Author's Note:**

> this is the very first sheith, and vld thing in general, that i've posted, so i hope you find it enjoyable.   
> thank you to user rachhell for all the feedback, that helped me feel brave enough to share this ♥
> 
> i made a playlist for this story, which can be found [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/56Uy3wWP5UwpexKQgHP7HE?si=d4Ud0xqvQnmI8pl8N4HVhw)
> 
> aaand i can be found on twitter @/guineadogs

A cloud of dust billowed behind him as he drove down the scarcely-used dirt road. It was a slow and steady speed; Keith was always aware of the twists, turns, and high probability that at any moment, an animal may venture across, be it an elk, bear, or squirrel. All types of wildlife mattered, and it was his job to protect them. Eventually, the dirt road ended into another, and that one forked into another, until he came to a paved road that divided the private land he lived upon and the public land on which he worked. From there, it was a lonely highway to the nearest town.

It was isolating. This wasn't the only route; this just happened to be the more roundabout route with less passersby, and he preferred that. He could enjoy the rises and falls of the mountain peaks alone. The view was only his: the shadows cast down by the occasional cloud, the melting snowpack—all of it.

The town he ventured to was one that thrived specifically from its proximity to the park. Tourists refueled, shopped, and lodged. The locals who lived in the outer parts—rangers like him, ranchers, and those who preferred the closeness to nature—ventured in to stock up on supplies.

For Keith, it was water. Plumbing did not exist in the backcountry, and there were merits to purchasing water rather than siphoning what he needed from the river that was only reliable when there was enough snowmelt. Pulling up to such a location, filled the truck bed tank while he leaned against the side of pickup.

He gave a nod to a man who pulled into the lot. Keith didn't exactly get on with all of the people here; there was bad blood that went further back before he was even alive, and they were wounds that cut deep and were beyond him to repair. It was the nature of private and public land existing so closely. But it was manageable, if only because everyone tended to mind their own business.

Still, he didn't linger when he finished up. The engine roared to life, and he continued his way down the main stretch. This was a trip he made two or three times a month at most, sometimes less, if he could get away with it. It meant that the other necessity was stopping by the post office to check his box.

The lobby was scheduled to close in ten minutes, but that was more than enough time to retrieve the mail from the threateningly-full box and retreat to the truck. He exhaled, letting go of the same breath he always held when he did this. Most of it was junk. Flyers for sales and coupons he wouldn't use. A few bills and other things in important-looking envelopes.

But it was the envelope with the all too familiar handwriting that got to him. He merely glanced at it. The moment it registered, he tossed the pile of mail into the passenger's seat and peeled out of the parking lot.

As he headed back home, the sun sank behind the peaks, sending bright rays of light intermixed with pink and orange skies. This view was his, and his alone, and he wished it wasn't.

* * *

It was his favorite spot: upon a boulder along the riverside; its roar was loud and overpowered the chirps of the birds that nested in the nearby trees. The sun was warm, but the breeze was still cool as it rolled down the mountains. This late into summer, there was barely any snow left, as most of it melted away and fueled the rivers. It didn’t matter; the mountains always looked beautiful. The only thing better than the view was the hand clasping his shoulder. Keith glanced over, heart thrumming as his eyes met his companion's.

"You got a minute?"

Keith hummed, nodding. "Yeah. Just finishing up my lunch, then I'll head down to—"

"Oh. Yeah, no, no rush. It's not about that. I just wanted to talk to you about something."

There was a feeling of anticipation, and for a brief moment, Keith let himself feel hopeful. "I wanted to talk to you about something too. But, you go first."

"Well." Hesitation filled the space between his words, which was unlike Shiro in most situations. This was something different. “I’ve been reassigned.”

The fleeting hope that Keith felt just a moment before plummeted to the pit of his stomach.  _ “Reassigned? _ Shiro, I thought you were trying to get a permanent placement here.” 

There he was—offering him that apologetic smile that made it difficult to be angry about the situation. “That’s what I wanted, yes, but sometimes you have to play the game for a while to get the job you really want. I’m here until the end of the season, but...I wanted to tell you first.” 

Being angry at Shiro might’ve been difficult, but it wasn’t impossible. Keith squared his jaw and stared down at the river. 

“Keith?”

“I get it. I do. You gotta do what you gotta do. They’ll be lucky to have you.” 

Shiro squeezed his shoulder. “What did you want to tell me?”

Shaking his head, he pulled away and got to his feet. “It was nothing. I’ll head over to the Headwaters. Don’t wanna be late.” 

* * *

He slammed the door of the pick up behind him with the mail tucked under his arm. It was already twilight, and given that he had enough water for the night, he opted to deal with it at sunrise. Right now, there was  _ nothing _ he wanted to deal with. Keith stomped his boots off on the steps leading up to the porch, and once they were off and he was inside, he tossed them aside. 

He flung the mail on the kitchen table of the three-room cabin he built, and immediately grabbed an almost-empty bottle of an amber-colored elixir. He filled a glass to the brim, throwing back a large gulp that burned the entire way down. Leaning against the counter, he repeated the action a second time, and a third, until he had swallowed down enough of his bitterness that he could stand looking at the table at all. 

It was always the same. This was the risk for checking the mail. Depending on the timing, there might’ve been one, sometimes even two, letters waiting on him. He hated it. He hated it so much, and each time one arrived, he wanted to shred it each and every one of them into a million pieces and toss them in his woodburning stove. 

But as tempting as that was, Keith could never bring himself to do it. 

He sighed, and as he stepped closer to the table, he brought the cup and bottle with him. Both set on the table, he turned his attention to the old shoebox resting on one of his shelves. Keith brought that over too. He sat down. The edge of the table dug into his ribs as he reached to the far end, sliding the envelope closer to himself until it sat directly in front of him. 

He traced his fingers over his name, over the postmark. Virginia, this time. 

Sometimes he couldn’t bring himself to open the letters right away. There were already too many unknowns, and often Keith couldn’t decide what he dreaded more: what they might say, or what they wouldn’t. 

Firmly gripping his glass, he drank more. Refilled. Despite the bitter resentment he felt, when he finally slid one of his fingers under the flap of the envelope, it was with the utmost care. 

* * *

K—

The mountains aren’t the same here. Sometimes I don’t know how I feel about it. They’re worn down, weathered away by centuries of erosion. I suppose that is something I have in common with them. Still, I miss the sharp peaks and dramatic valleys of the west. They remind me of you. 

I hope you’re well.

—S

* * *

His heart raced, tense in a way that made it hard hard to breathe and hard to think. He forced himself to take a measured breath, inhaling until his lungs felt too full. He held that breath, and released it slowly until the tremble beneath the surface ebbed away. 

Keith returned the letter to its envelope. He smoothed his hands over it again. He would file it away with the others, but it was never as simple as adding it to the shoebox. Lifting the lid, he pulled out all of the letters he’d received over the past five years and spread them across the table. 

He’d never counted how many there were. At least a hundred, if he’d ever bothered to guess, but Keith never allowed himself to think about  _ how frequently _ Shiro wrote to him when he still struggled to understand why Shiro wrote to him at all. 

The envelopes were different shapes, sizes, and colors. Some were pearly white, while others faded yellow, stained by the acidity of the cardboard box. The envelopes were as worn as the letters. The words of each were etched into his mind, and yet he still felt compelled to reread them every time he got to this space. 

Sometimes he sorted them by date, sometimes by location. Sometimes he reread them with a certain sort of desperation, searching for a deeper meaning. A code, a missing puzzle piece. Something or anything that made any of this make sense. He followed that line of thought, that spiraling rabbit hole to the deepest and darkest places, and when he resurfaced, gasping for breath and yearning for a reprieve, he was always empty-handed. 

How much longer could he endure this? 

He’d thought about changing his P.O. Box. He’d thought about getting rid of it entirely and disappearing further up into the mountains without a return address. But he didn’t and knew he never would. He needed the letters as much as he felt his resolve crumbling more and more every time. 

* * *

I miss your lips.    
I miss how you feel against me.   
I miss how you feel in my hands.

* * *

Out of all of the letters, it wasn't among the longest, as it was only a few paragraphs, but it was one of the oldest. Some letters said a lot but revealed nothing, but this one was explicit and specific, detailing how much he was missed and in what ways. Every time he reread it, it conjured memories to a bygone time that no longer felt real. 

He stood up abruptly, the chair scraping against the hardwood floors as he shoved it back. Gripping the edge of the table, he steadied himself as the house spun. A ragged breath later and he was forcing himself to move, leaving the letters where they rested on the table. 

His hand trailed along the wall as he made his way to his bedroom door and subsequently stumbled onto his bed. The air in his room was cool and served as a sharp contrast to his own body, that was suddenly too hot to tolerate the layers of clothing he wore. 

Tugging each article off, he discarded them onto the floor: his flannel, his shirt, his jeans, which with the belt and buckle still attached, landed on the floor with a loud thump. Underwear and socks came last, and at least the overheating was somewhat abated.

He laid down, rolling onto his stomach with a groan. Keith wrapped his arms around his pillow, pulling it close against him as he buried his face into it. His pillowcase smelled like his shampoo, but in moments like these he could pretend that it smelled like fir and calypso orchids. He could pretend that he had his face buried into Shiro’s broad muscular chest, that he wasn’t alone in his bed. And if he tried hard enough, he could almost remember what it was like to feel Shiro’s hands on him.

Keith clenched his eyes shut as, and without an ounce of decorum, he took hold of his aching cock, clumsily stroking himself. He didn’t need to drag it out, he didn’t even need it to feel  _ satisfying; _ he just needed a moment of relief. He needed it to  _ go away _ , needed to be able to bottle up every inconvenient feeling he felt as much as he could, even if just for a moment. 

He rolled onto his back, searching for something in his thoughts that he could ground himself with. He was so far gone, so touch-starved that he wound up settling on one of the many moments when Shiro clasped his hand on his shoulder—something that would’ve appeared as an innocuous gesture to anyone who may have observed them, but always meant much more—and as he came, it was with a shuddering sob. 

* * *

K—

Hunk told me about your promotion. I’m proud of you. I know how hard you worked for it, and it’s well-deserved. I hope it’s everything you wanted it to be. Take care of yourself. I know you can handle it, but that sort of isolation can take its toll. 

Things are going as well as they can be here. The team working under me is great; so far everyone has proven to work well together. Still need a map for the city and other areas around the park, but the park itself is stunning. Have you ever seen the ocean before? I don’t remember if you ever said, but I wish you could see this one yourself. The Polaroids (hopefully they didn’t get bent en route!) don’t do it justice.

On a personal note, I’ve met someone. Some months back, technically. I don’t know where it’s going to go, but I’m going to find out. Don’t worry, we know how to be discreet.

I don’t know if any of these letters reach you, but I would love to hear from you.

—S

* * *

“A backcountry ranger, huh? Admirable choice.” Shiro tilted his head at him for a moment before returning his attention to the trail before them. There were still patches of snow in the shaded parts, but spring wildflowers and green grasses threatened to come out full-force. “I can’t say that it’s the career track I’d pick. I don’t know if there’s funding for permanent full-time positions and the pay is low.”

There was a pep in Keith’s step as he bumped his shoulder into the side of Shiro’s arm. “I don’t care about any of that. I don’t want to become superintendent, and getting to do rescues is more worthwhile than running the same education programs over and ov—don’t look at me like that, I’m not cut out for spending my days explaining to children why they shouldn’t feed wildlife.”

Shiro bumped back. “I know you know this, but not everything you’d be doing would be so glamorous. It’s grueling work, and you’d be out here by yourself for days at a time.”

“I know. I’d be perfectly okay with that.” 

“You wouldn’t miss anyone?”

Keith was quiet for a moment. He felt his cheeks burn as he glanced over at Shiro. They’d been hiking for a few hours. Shiro’s skin glistened with sweat, and traces of a five o’clock shade were visible along his jaw. Keith cleared his throat and quickly looked away. “Not really. I mean, I’d miss you, but you’d just be a radio call away, so it’d be fine.” 

The conversation faded into a comfortable silence, but not a long-lasting one. Keith didn’t often feel the need to talk more than necessary, but Shiro was the exception to that rule. If he could, he’d find the rights words to say just so he could hear Shiro talk forever. 

“Do you want to stop here? This looks like a good spot to camp.” Keith gestured to the clearing they were coming upon. It was one of the designated backcountry campsites on the trail, and it wasn’t occupied. They hadn’t seen anyone at all since they left the trailhead, and he felt confident that it would likely remain that way.

Shiro agreed, and they worked like a well-oiled machine. It took no time at all to set their gear down and get the high altitude tent up. It was just the one, on the off-chance that a storm rolled through. Then it was cooking over the fire pit that was set up a safe distance away from where they were going to sleep. It was bear country, after all.

The sun was setting when they had everything cleaned up and secured from their meal, and for a while they indulged in the sort of comfort that could only be found around a crackling fire. 

“Hey Shiro.” From the other side of the fire, Keith could see the shadows dancing across his face, but he quickly diverted his gaze to the flames. “Is it okay if I tell you something I haven’t told anyone before?” 

“Of course.” Shiro’s voice was soft, calm and clear. Keith knew that if there was anyone in the world he could trust, it was him.

“I like being out here by virtue of being out in nature and away from everything. But that’s not the only reason. It’s also just better for me to be away from other people. There’s things they can’t know about me.” 

Shiro hummed in acknowledgement, and drank some water from his canteen. “Nothing wrong with keeping some things to yourself. No one has to know everything about you.” 

He worried on his bottom lip, nodding. Shame rushed up the back of his neck as his voice cracked. “Shiro, I’m gay.” 

“Hey...that’s okay. I am too.”

* * *

He awoke with his head throbbing and his stomach sour. The too-bright sunlight seeped into his room and only added to his misery. He dragged himself out of bed and made his way to the solar shower built behind the cabin. He showered navy style, and once he got some coffee and ibuprofen in him, he started to feel a little more functional. 

If there was ever a good thing about working through the residual feelings of a headache, it was the absolute emptiness of his mind. He returned the letters to the box, put the box back on the shelf, and immediately threw himself into the work that needed to be done. As he was almost always consistently on ten and off four days during the busy season, there was never any shortage of work to be done, be it refilling the various water storage tanks he had, clearing out potential ground fuels from the forest near his home, or chopping wood. If all else failed, there was always working on his truck. Which really, even if there wasn’t anything specific that needed maintenance, he often found himself tinkering anyway. 

It wasn’t eventful, and just like when he was actually working, he pushed himself as hard as he could until he was so exhausted his sleep was dreamless.

Days repeated that way, and when it was time to report back to work, he packed up his gear and headed back to the park.

* * *

K—

What kind of music are you listening to these days? It still feels weird that I don’t know anything about you anymore. I suppose that’s not true. Hunk sometimes mentions you, but it’s superficially at best. I don’t know if that means you don’t want me to know anything, or if you don’t tell him anything. I think about this more than I should. 

But I certainly know what things you used to like, at least. I remember your favorite albums used to be Superfuzz Bigmuff and Nevermind. You used to hum along when you’d listen to them on your Walkman. If you’re in need of new albums to listen to, there’s a new one by Magnetic Fields called 69 Love Songs. There’s several different styles of music on it, so I don’t know if it’ll be up your alley, but for all I know it might be.

—S

P.S. 

This is a longshot, but if you have e-mail, mine is ts22964@aol.com

* * *

“Hey, wait!” Keith called after him. He’d paused in his hike to observe an osprey perched in a nearby tree. He hadn’t even realized that Shiro continued walking until he saw him several yards away. Shiro had stopped and turned around to wait on him, and Keith wasted no time in running up the incline to catch up with him. His gear didn’t make that easy, but it didn’t stop him from giving Shiro a playful shove once he reached him. “You ass, you could’ve waited.”

Shiro caught Keith’s hand in his as he looked down at him with a small smile. “I’m here, aren’t I?” Keith scoffed in response, but before he could say anything, Shiro pulled him in so they were pressed chest to chest. His other hand stroked Keith’s cheek as he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Keith’s lips.

It ended just as quickly, and Shiro made a motion to continue onward. This time, it was Keith who pulled him back into a fervent kiss as he threaded his fingers into the hairs on the back of Shiro’s neck. Shiro’s hands settled on Keith’s hips, holding him fast and close until they broke away to catch their breaths. 

“That’s better,” Keith quipped. The hike resumed, and their conversations quickly delved into a comfortable banter as they found excuses for their arms and hands to brush against each other. 

When they arrived at their camping site, they got everything set up as efficiently as they had with any other overnight hike they’d done. But this one was different.

“Have you considered how odd it is that we work here all week, and we’re still here on our days off?”

Keith looked over at Shiro as he started their evening fire. “Not at all. What else could we be doing? Jackson is about an hour away as it is.” 

Shiro shrugged, adding kindling to the small fire. He sat down beside Keith on a blanket, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “Still could sometime, if you want.”

“Maybe. I could go for a pizza one of these days.” But right now? All he wanted was to indulge in their close proximity and the warmth radiating from the fire. The temperature dropped considerably when the sun was down, and it offered the perfect excuse for him to lean in and wrap an arm around Shiro’s back while Shiro draped an arm over his shoulders. 

Cuddling led to roaming hands, which led to Keith’s heart racing in a way it hadn’t before. Shiro pulled him into his lap, and Keith was more than happy to straddle him. Keith bit his lip, watching his own hands as they slid over Shiro’s chest. Over the layers, he could still feel tone muscle. “You know. Shiro, I’ve never—”

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll take care of you, if that’s what you want.”

Keith nodded, and when their mouths met, he kissed Shiro slowly. Their lips parted, tongues brushed against each other, explored, and Keith wanted to commit every part of Shiro to memory. He’d have plenty of time to soak all of him in, he was sure, but he still wanted to engrain every part of Shiro into his muscle memory now. 

The heat of the fire concentrated on Keith’s back, but not uncomfortably so. When the kiss broke, and Shiro’s calloused hands slid under the hem of his shirt, pushing it up, the sharp contrast of warmth and cool air felt amazing. Keith tugged his shirt the rest of the way off, discarding it beside them. He kissed Shiro again, cupping his cheeks before sliding them downward along the side of his neck, across Shiro’s broad shoulders. 

Shiro’s hands slid upward along his spine, sending a rush of electricity that caused Keith to press more firmly against him. The kiss broke once more, but their eyes met briefly and their foreheads pressed against one another’s in a way that felt more intense than anything else they’d done. “Keith. I need you to know, you never have to feel bad for being who you are. You’re perfect.” 

“Shiro.”

“I mean it. You’re smart as hell, strong, and capable. Did I mention beautiful? You’re—” It was too much. Keith’s heart raced, his cheeks burned, and feeling absolutely overwhelmed with the praise, he cut Shiro off with another kiss.

Keith ran his hands down Shiro’s back, along his hips. Deft fingers played with the hem of Shiro’s shirt. He slid his fingers underneath, splaying across the expanse of ripped muscle, soft skin and a trail of chest hairs. They broke apart to pull Shiro’s shirt off entirely, and when Keith leaned back in, it was to press soft kisses against his throat and shoulders. 

It felt ridiculous for Shiro to say any of those sweet things to him. How could he call him  _ perfect _ , when Shiro himself was so much more accurately described as perfect when he was right there? Could he not see how kind he was, how much better of a leader he was than Keith would ever be? Had he never looked in a mirror and seen how stunning he was? If he knew none of these things, he probably didn’t know that the softness in Shiro’s eyes when he looked at him offered all the reassurance in the world that things would be okay. Keith didn’t know how to tell him any of these things, especially right then. But he would. One day.

Keith rolled his hips, grinding his hardening cock against Shiro’s as Shiro’s hands settled on his ass, squeezing and holding him in place as he moved with him. Keith’s breath hitched, and as a moan escaped his lips, he buried his face against Shiro’s shoulder.

“You feeling good, baby?” The words were spoken softly against the shell of his ear, but there was an edge in Shiro’s voice that made him ache. 

“Yeah,” came his shaky response, and Keith quickly followed it up by palming at Shiro through his jeans. He wanted to feel him, wanted to know what this part of his body was like as much as every other part of him, and he was far from disappointed. He felt hard, thick, and the rumbling in Shiro’s throat in response to the contact was a sound Keith wanted to hear more of and draw out of him. 

That opportunity arose when they laid on the blanket, flush against each other. Their lips were swollen, but it didn’t stop either of them from drawing each other in for more deep kisses, or to litter each other's shoulders and chests in kisses and nips, leaving behind splotches of red and purple that could easily be covered up later. 

A sense of urgency built. Belts came undone, pants and underwear tugged past their hips. Shiro guided his hand exactly where he wanted, and Keith was happy to oblige. He wrapped his hand around Shiro’s cock, stroking slowly and running his thumb against the tip during upward motions. He felt a swelling of pride as Shiro tilted his head back with a moan that indicated just how much he was unraveling, all because of  _ him. _

Keith was in a similar state as well; Shiro’s hands were adept at pulling not only the best sensations, but the loudest moans from him that made him feel relieved that there wasn’t another person around for miles. 

“Come here,” Shiro said, as if they weren’t already pressed close. He wrapped an arm around Keith, holding him as he took both of their cocks in hand, stroking them in tandem. Keith’s hands roamed and took hold of Shiro’s back as he tried to smother his sounds into Shiro’s shoulders. He rocked his hips, and the additional friction had him seeing stars that were much more spectacular than the ones overhead. 

He spilled against Shiro with a shuttering moan as Shiro sang praise in his ear. He followed not long after. They held onto each other until the flames from the campfire began to fade. It was only then they pulled away long enough to get cleaned up and put the fire out.

They slept in the tent that night, limbs intertwined with one another’s.

* * *

“You said you’re going to Denver this weekend, right?” Keith leaned against the counter in Hunk’s kitchen, watching as he sauteed vegetables with butter and herbs he’d personally never bothered purchasing himself. He didn’t feel the need to prepare meals for anything more than required sustenance since it was just him. Hunk was aghast when he first learned of this particular habit of Keith’s, and over the years insisted he come over as much as possible for ‘real food.’ 

Keith didn’t mind, not really. As much as possible generally meant no more than once a month with their schedules, which worked out well. When so much of his time was spent as such, he could only handle spending so much time around children before he was completely drained. It didn’t matter that they were great kids. There was just a lot of energy in Hunk’s full house, which was located on the outskirts of Jackson, and unlike Keith’s isolated dry cabin, it was equipped with all the modern conveniences 1999 could buy. 

“Yup. Why, you want to quit being a hermit and leave your mountain for a few days?” Hunk very easily saw the nasty look Keith shot at him and laughed heartily. “Guess not.”

“No. But I was wondering if you could do me a favor.” He crossed his arms with a sigh, glaring at the linoleum floor. “If you have time. I wanted you to see if you could find an album for me.”

“Like a music album? Yeah, sure, buddy. You want that Britney Spears one?”

“Who?” Keith’s brows furrowed as he shook his head. “Magnetic Fields. It’s 69...Love...Songs or something like that.”

“Huh. Think there’s 69 songs on it?”

Keith refused to admit just how little he knew about it, or why he wanted it, so he ignored the question. “I’ll pay you back if you find it.”

A week later, Keith found himself playing the same set of cassettes from that album over and over, searching for the hidden meanings before finally allowing himself to enjoy something that Shiro enjoyed, too.

* * *

It was the worst letter he’d ever received. Shiro said he wanted to hear from him in the same letter he said he’d met someone else. He could only laugh bitterly as he sought out a drink for comfort. Was there a point in saying anything? Shiro was all the way over on the East Coast, apparently with some great new life, and Keith could barely stand the thought of leaving Wyoming. It was bound to happen. He just didn’t think it would’ve happened so quickly. 

The fiery alcohol sank down to his stomach and settled in with the knowledge that he fucked up. He knew he should’ve told Shiro how he felt while Shiro was still here. But he didn’t, and hadn’t ever let it slip exactly what he wanted from him. He just hadn’t seen the point when it was already set in stone that he was leaving. It just would’ve caused more problems. 

But his drink fueled every negative emotion he felt and it emboldened him. If Shiro wanted to hear from him so badly, he’d hear from him alright. Keith grabbed a pad of paper and a pen, determined to tell him everything. 

Little did he know that in the years following, he’d never receive a letter that addressed anything he said. 

* * *

Shiro,

The reason I haven’t written before now is I haven’t known what to say to you. What even is there to say? You’re there, and I’m here, and that’s that. I don’t begrudge you for it. We wanted different things and I understand you had a decision to make and there was never any reason or obligation to include me in it. But I wish you had, or at the very least told me it was a possibility before it was too late. 

I never told you what I needed to tell you, because by the time I was ready, it wouldn’t have been fair to either of us. There’s no point in wanting something when there’s a known expiration date. The distance toward the end was supposed to lessen the blow, but you didn’t let that happen, and you’re still not letting that happen. 

Sometimes, it does help knowing that you still think of me enough to write to me. But other times, and I’d wager that’s most of the time, it just hurts. How am I supposed to be happy that you’re moving on when there’s a massive question mark surrounding what could’ve been? Of course I want you to be happy and I don’t need to be handled delicately. I can handle it because I have no other choice, but that doesn’t mean I’ll get over it. 

Shiro, do you even have any idea what you mean to me? You’re more than a crush, or a fling, or anything like that. I don’t know what you ever defined any of that, or me, as, but I loved you. I still do. There’s never going to be anyone else like you for me. 

Keith

* * *

Autumn quickly approached, and everything began to slow as soon as the first large snowstorm hit. Tourism slowed, Keith busied himself with winterizing his home, and in spaces at work that would soon be closing for the season. He took a weekend in October to sack an elk, which immediately ensured he could fill his deep freezer with more than enough meat for the winter. Everything he couldn’t fit he gave to Hunk. 

There was a certain ease in knowing what was going to come in the months ahead. Storms and snow were always a certainty, and it was one that Keith felt more than adept at enduring, despite the perils that came with hunkering down for winter so far away from civilization. 

The roads he traversed to get to and from home weren’t plowed, and after a certain amount of snow, there was only so far he would be able to get even with having four wheel drive, chains, and a shovel. It meant sitting with the particular silence that came with snow.

But it also meant he had to be completely prepared for anything to happen with the knowledge that if there was an emergency, there was the possibility of not having help even if he could reach someone by radio. Which was fine. It wasn’t his first winter alone, and it wouldn’t be his last. 

He still had the same cassettes playing as he drove out for another round of errands, and with a certain level of trepidation, he stopped by the post office as it was along his commute. And as there often was, there was a letter waiting for him. Rather than waiting until he got home to open the envelope, he did right then and there as he sat in his truck.

* * *

K—

I’ve been thinking a lot lately, over the past few months, why I remember all of these small details about you. Memories have faded for the different places I’ve been, and people I met, but never with you. If I close my eyes, I can still see you as clear as day, I can still perfectly envision you as you were the last time I saw you. I remember your voice. I know why I can’t shake you. I love you.

—S

* * *

He saw red.

It was the first letter that he’d received that he crumpled into a ball and thrown onto the passenger side floorboards. The audacity.  _ The fucking audacity. _ He punched the horn of the steering wheel, only barely aware of the blaring noise he caused. The postmarked date was October 1999. Not 1995, not even 1996, or a point in time that would’ve made sense. It wasn’t in response to anything he’d said when he’d written Shiro. Why was he receiving this now?

He couldn’t take this anymore.

Keith pulled into a gas station parking lot, and after digging out the change he could find in his truck, he stalked over to the pay phone. It rang once, twice, three times before Hunk picked up with a  _ hello? _

“Hunk, you have the internet at your house.” It was a question, but Keith was too far gone to be able to intonate it that way.

“Keith? Uh. Yeah, that’s true. Are you okay, bud? What’s going on?”

Keith gritted his teeth. He wanted to kick something, and it took everything to resist the urge of taking his anger out on the metal pole that held the payphone. “I need to send an email.”

“Do you even have an email address? Come over whenever, I’ll help you get that set up.”

Keith murmured his thanks, and as soon as he hung up, he was back in the truck, heading further south down the highway to Hunk’s house. He’d scarcely used a computer in his life, and Hunk knew that. He walked Keith through making a profile, and showed him how to access the email window. 

“So in that field where it says ‘to,’ you’ll write the other person’s email address,” Hunk said, hunched over Keith’s shoulder as he sat in front of the family computer. “The subject line is optional, and the message goes right there. But you know, if this person you suddenly want to talk to so badly also has AOL—” He said it as though he knew exactly who Keith wanted to contact, and he probably did. “—you can also add his username to your buddies, and if he’s online, you could talk to him in real time.”

“Absolutely not. I just need to say one thing.”

Hunk straightened and patted his back. “I’ll leave you to it, then. Holler if you need help.”

Keith looked over his shoulder, ensuring Hunk was otherwise occupied before he typed out the email address he had memorized. Typing wasn’t his strong suit. He didn’t know where the location of the keys were, and resorted to pecking away at the keys, one at a time. 

_ quit dicking me around either come talk to me in person or leave me alone  _

He typed out the coordinates to his cabin, and after a moment of mulling it over, added for good measure: 

_ do not respond to this because i am not going to check it _

* * *

Winter set in and Keith adapted quickly. He kept the path to his outer buildings shoveled, climbed onto the pitched roof to keep too much snow from collecting up there, and spent hours shoveling from where he kept his truck parked to the road. It was on the off chance that he would need to leave, but mostly it was to give him something strenuous to do when it was reasonable enough for him to be outside. He kept the fires in his woodburning stove and fireplace stoked, read and reread the books he’d accumulated, and enjoyed the serenity that winter brought with it. 

Days passed this way, and he could almost pretend that there wasn’t anything weighing heavily on his mind. His expectations were low, but he hadn’t checked his mail in what felt like ages, and he felt certain he would not be touching the internet in any capacity ever again. Maybe the letters stopped. Maybe they continued. Keith knew better than trying not to understand what boiled down to  _ Schrodinger’s Shiro. _

What he hadn’t expected in general, and especially where Shiro was concerned, was for there to be a knock on his front door. Hunk was the only visitor he had, but never when there was so much snow on the ground. He could’ve just imagined it, but when the rapping continued, Keith opted to assume that someone backpacking got extremely lost. 

Snow billowed in as he opened the front door, and he couldn’t process who was in front of him. Keith socked him before he could even make sense out of Shiro being here, especially  _ now. _ But it was clearly him, bundled up in a parka and other winter gear.

Shiro stumbled back, rubbing at his jaw. “I deserved that.” His eyes were on him then, his expression as soft as ever. “Your hair’s gotten long.”

Keith sputtered, and diverted his gaze from Shiro long enough to see that there wasn’t another vehicle in view. “And you’ve become a moron. Do you  _ want _ to get hypothermia?” Keith took hold of a sleeve of Shiro’s parka and tugged him inside, securing the door behind them.

There were so many questions he had, but before he could even ask them, he was overwhelmed with the fact that Shiro was here with him. He still hadn’t let go of Shiro's sleeve, so instead he grabbed the collar of the coat, pulling him down into a fiery kiss that was a sharp contrast to the frigid temperatures on the other side of that door. 

The kiss broke, and Keith busied himself with unbuttoning and unzipping Shiro’s parka. “What are you doing here?” There was a cautiousness to his tone, as if he hadn’t entirely expressed how he felt about Shiro a moment before by kissing him like that. 

Shiro hung his coat up, and soon all of the other protective articles of clothing followed along with his boots and socks. Keith gestured for him to sit on the log couch that was positioned in front of the stove while he fetched the kettle to get hot water started. “You gave me your coordinates.” Shiro shook his head. “I wasn’t anticipating this much snow. The rental gave up on me about a mile back.” 

“You clearly haven’t been here in a while.” Keith didn’t mean for it to sound as bitterly as it probably did, but it was true. He set the kettle on the stove, and pulled down a couple mugs and packets of tea. 

“That’s true.” Shiro rubbed the back of his neck, watching Keith find every excuse he could to keep standing and moving. “I found this recently.” He shifted, pulling out an envelope from his pocket. 

Keith recognized it immediately and his eyes narrowed. “What do you mean you found it? I wrote that four years ago.” 

“I mean exactly that.” Shiro leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I can only guess he read it before I saw it. Found it in the attic, stuffed into a box of stuff I’m sure hadn’t been unpacked for about as long—” 

“Where is  _ he _ now?” Keith knew right then, he didn’t want to hear anymore of this unless his apparent competition was longgone. 

“We broke up over a year ago, that doesn’t matter. The point is: I am sorry. I need you to know that I never wanted to hurt you.” 

Keith couldn’t quite bring himself to look at him. The kettle began to whistle, giving him the excuse to finish making the tea. He handed one of the mugs to Shiro, and finally sat on the couch beside him. “Well, you did.”

Shiro nodded. He wasn’t going to dispute that. “You could’ve written again.”

“I know. But I was pissed.”

“This whole time?”

“Yeah.”

From the corner of his eye, he saw Shiro take a sip of the hot tea. After being in the cold for so long, he imagined it was soothing. “I want to make it up to you. Maybe it won’t fix everything that’s happened in the past, but I’d like have a future with you—”

Keith immediately cut him off. “I’m not doing anything long distance.” He knew what his limitations were, and as much as he knew he wanted a relationship with Shiro, he didn’t want to set either of them up for failure, either.

“Does Mammoth count as long distance?”

Keith’s heart skipped a beat. His jaw dropped, eyes widening as he blanched at Shiro. “You’re moving back to Wyoming?”

“Yeah.” He paused. “Well, I only interviewed for the position a couple weeks ago, so it might not be Mammoth, but—yes. One way or another. It might mean a career change if that doesn’t pan out, but I’m okay with that. I would rather be here with you, and I should’ve done that years ago.”

“Mammoth is only like three hours away.” Keith murmured to himself more than anything, The magnitude of everything else Shiro said hit him, and for a moment all he could do was reach over and take one of Shiro’s hands in his. “I’d like that. A lot, actually.”

“Me too.”

“You’re staying right here for at least a while though.”

Shiro chuckled, and pulled Keith closer, tucking his arm over his shoulders. “Am I, now?” 

“Yeah. I’ll go get your car later, but you’ve apparently forgotten everything about winter out here, so you’re going to stay right here in front of this fire. You can have blankets, of course, and I have books, and—”

Shiro tilted Keith’s chin up with his fingertips and pressed a soft kiss against his lips. “Baby, I’ll stay wherever you want me to.”


End file.
